


Demon deals are the least of your worries.

by millygal



Series: Fanfic Wish List [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley Being an Asshole, Filthy, Introspection, Introspective Castiel, M/M, POV Crowley, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: It's fast and dirty and shameful, but Castiel can't seem to bring himself to stop.





	Demon deals are the least of your worries.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JJ1564](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ1564/gifts), [patriciatepes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/gifts).



> Thank you SO SO much to jj1564 who is not only the most encouraging beta, who always gives good suggestions and constructive criticism, but she also appears to have been my newest convert to Castiel/Crowley or Crowstiel (I love saying that way too much!) This is for patriciatepes for her #10 Prompt on her Fanfic Meme Wishlist.
> 
> Supernatural: Castiel and or /Crowley. Just some misadventures. And yes, this is my slash guilty pleasure.
> 
> This basically gave me an excuse to write Crowley/Castiel which I have been looking for since finishing up the Coda that goes with my BigBang which won't see the light of day for months, LOL! Thank you hun and I hope you enjoy. It's just utter porn.

In the three years since Castiel experienced the act of lovemaking, he’s had to face some cold hard facts about his _tastes_. Turns out the Angel isn’t into romantic candle light and soft song stylings.

He likes it rough.

He likes it rough enough that the only _person_ capable of satisfying his needs turns out not to be a person at all.

In his Angelic state he shouldn’t be capable of feeling shame, but somehow the emotion snuck past his defences and took root in the deepest parts of the void that once housed a human soul.

The soul may have dissipated with his homosapien status, but the ability to _feel_ has not.

It’s most perturbing.

The Winchester brothers already opened a floodgate in him, allowing small and peculiar changes in his personality which resulted in big decisions Castiel never thought he’d make.

Compassion is no longer foreign to him, neither is rage or despair, but attraction... **This** attraction, is something else entirely.

New and disturbing and addictive.

The creature in question, the one who keeps leaving vicious bite marks on his shoulders, bruises all over his body and an ache in the pit of his stomach that’s delicious in it’s intensity, that creature is staring at him now. Pinning him with a look that could quite easily peel flesh from bone, let alone underwear from a weak-willed Angel.

Castiel attempts to back away; hands raised, teeth bared. “No, Crowley. We are done. I cannot keep doing this.”

Crowley sucks on his left canine, making a smacking sound with his lips, and smirks before stepping forward and shaking his head. “We’ve been humming this tune for years, Feathers. We both know how the melody ends. You resist, I persist, we end up naked and bloody and having to zap out of whatever building we’ve brought down around us. Why must you continue to deny what it is you’re really feeling?”

Castiel’s shoulders slam up against damp mildew-covered bricks as he tries, and fails, to articulate just how _wrong_ this whole situation is. “What exactly is it I am feeling, Demon?”

“Horny.”

The smugness radiating off of Crowley irritates Castiel to the point where he can feel his Grace boiling. “Disgust.”

Crowley takes another step, bringing him within touching distance of the Angel, daring Castiel to click his fingers and leave. “Want.”

Castiel closes his eyes and hisses. “Shame.”

Another step and Crowley can taste Castiel’s Angelic presence. It stings the back of his throat and makes his eyes water, but just like always, the pain is a part of the pleasure. “Need.”

They’re separated only by Castiel’s sheer force of will.

Turning his head sideways, sliding his cheek against wet brick, Castiel refuses to look Crowley in the eye. “Stop it. Just, stop it.”

Castiel could, in theory, atomise Crowley. Lay his palm on the Demon’s head and will him into nothingness. Maybe that’s a part of the appeal too. That impending sense of doom as Crowley pushes his luck way passed the Angel’s breaking point.

There’s no sense in wasting the few minutes they have alone, even if the Angel is being reluctant, because Crowley can sense the Winchesters. They’re a few miles away and are bound to call upon Castiel for whatever half arsed plan they’ve managed to bollocks up this time.

Crowley never takes what’s not offered to him, but he has ways and means of making sure the person saying no changes their mind. In Castiel’s case the answer is simple, and fairly base.

Slamming his palms flat against the bricks either side of Castiel’s head, Crowley leans in and runs the tip of his nose along the Angel’s jawline before audibly inhaling. “Wings, you smell good enough to eat, and you’re telling me you don’t want me to take a taste?”

Castiel grinds his teeth and turns his head to face the Demon, whose eyes are flashing red. “I fucking hate you.”

Bringing a hand away from the wall, palm still coated in wet brick dust, Crowley scrapes a nail down the side of Castiel’s face leaving an angry looking welt in his wake. “Therein lies the appeal, Cas. You _hate_ me, and yet, I can **feel** the way your body’s responding to me. Funny way of showing distaste, don’t you think?”

Crowley’s about to open his mouth and push some more, see how far he can wind it in before Castiel snaps, when he’s assaulted by teeth and tongue. Shaking hands grip the back of his head and he’s practically thrown against the opposite wall of the alleyway.

His shoulders come into contact with already shattered brick, and Crowley feels the entire building begin to vibrate behind him, tremors that telegraph danger of collapse.

The rage at Crowley’s impertinence fuels Castiel’s hunger for physical satisfaction and he reaches down and rips at the Demon’s fly, practically tearing the zipper from his trousers.

Castiel shoves his hand inside Crowley’s trousers before palming the Demon’s cock. “I.“

Curling his fingers tightly around Crowley’s twitching shaft, Castiel lunges forward and bites down hard on the his bottom lip. “Hate.”

Taking up a punishing rhythm that almost forces Crowley to his knees, Castiel smashes their mouths together before pulling back and hissing at his panting companion. “You!”

Despite Crowley’s overwhelming need for instant gratification, a gratification that only Castiel seems to be able to provide lately, he can feel Sam and Dean hitting Main Street. “We have to move, Feathers. We can’t stay here, we should g - **oomph**.“

Castiel’s need outweighs his ability to think straight and he ignores every word coming out of Crowley’s mouth in favour of dropping to his knees and engulfing the Demon’s cock in slick wet heat.

Taking a moment to appreciate the weight of the flesh resting on his tongue, Castiel begins to hum as he sucks Crowley’s cock as far down his throat as he can without gagging.

Crowley’s no longer capable of human speech.

Reduced to grunts and groans and half mumbled British expletives which sound odd even to his ears, Crowley grabs Castiel’s head and pistons his hips, fucking the Angel’s mouth, leaving sticky trails of precome and saliva dripping from split wide lips.

The pressure building behind Crowley’s eyes and at the base of his spine almost force the Demon to relinquish the hold he has on the body he’s been inhabiting for the last god knows how many years.

With a pained roar and final thrust, Crowley buries his cock in Castiel’s gullet before slumping forward and emptying himself down the Angel’s throat.

Castiel pulls off of Crowley’s cock with an audible _pop_ and let’s it hang limply between the Demon’s legs as he wipes sloppily at the mess slowly drying on his chin. “Pig.”

Crowley’s about to tuck himself away and throw a less than coherent barb at Castiel who’s dragging himself to his feet, when the Demon hears the growl of the Impala pulling up outside the mouth of the alleyway.

“Shit, Wings, we best - oh you have got to be **fucking** kidding me.”

Castiel’s gone.

A click of the fingers and he’s somewhere in the ether, leaving a bright red Crowley to face Sam and Dean as they recognise the sound of the Demon’s curses and step into the alleyway.

“What the fuck are doing here - _wait_ \- what the fuck are you **doing**?”

“Yeah, Crowley, I know you’re a Demon but you could at least wait until you’re back in the crypt to knock one out. Man, you’re disgusting.”

Looking down at himself, realising he’s still got his flaccid cock in his hand, Crowley snarls at Sam who’s in the process of getting his phone out of his pocket. “Don’t even think about it, Moose. And I wasn’t alone!”

Distracted by Sam, Crowley doesn’t notice Dean flicking his phone to life. It’s only the _click_ sound of a picture being taken that alerts him to just how much he wants to rip Castiel’s head off.

“Cas is gonna get such a kick out of this.”

Crowley tucks himself away and sneers at Dean before nodding and disappearing, leaving his parting words to rattle around the Winchester’s brains.

“You have **no** idea.”

 

Fin.


End file.
